


All-Nighter

by Alphabees



Series: Prompts, Ficlets, Drabbles. [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet, KBWeek 2020, Kurtbastian Week, M/M, Sebastian being a dumbass, Tumblr Prompt, we love to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphabees/pseuds/Alphabees
Summary: For the AU + Trope + Prompt gameCollege AU + Meet Cute + "Why are you awake so late?"[For KBWeek 2020 - College]
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: Prompts, Ficlets, Drabbles. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776796
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74
Collections: Kurtbastian Week 2020





	All-Nighter

Whoever came up with the concept of college roommates was an evil, sadistic individual. 

Maybe back in the days of Ye Olde University fun hadn’t been invented yet, but sometime between then and Sebastian’s enrollment at NYU, things changed. Humankind discovered the wonders of bars, and parties, and hook-ups.

Especially hook-ups.

The sad part is, Sebastian doesn’t even hate his roommate. He’s the big beefy varsity type - pure of heart, dumb of ass - and always offers to make Sebastian a sandwich too when he goes to make himself one. His girlfriend is also pretty nice, or at least he assumes so from the handful of conversations he’s had with her. The problem is, he really doesn’t want to see her naked.

It’s a sight to behold, if the amount of times he’s been locked out of his own room is any indication. The thing is: he’s super gay, and while there’s nothing wrong with the female form, he can’t make eye contact with her anymore since his roommate described female junk as ‘the gates to heaven, but like, if they were made of pastrami.’

He’s also been avoiding delis ever since.

That would be tolerable, if he could at least get into his own room. It’s approaching 3am, and Sebastian’s bored of pretending to study. The library is a 24 hour haven, and he’s glad it’s so near to his dorm - any minute now, he’ll get the all-clear text and it’ll take 5 minutes tops for him to get back to his room and flop into bed.

Any…

Minute…

Now…

Ugh. 

Sebastian lets his head fall to the desk before him with a soft thunk. He bolts back upright again at the sound of a harsh shush.

He’s given up on the textbook opened up before him - there are only so many paragraphs about the frontal lobe he can read before his own shrivels up and dies. Perhaps he could read recreationally - if only he wasn’t too fried to vibe with Hemingway right now.

At this point, people-watching is his only option. He’s been keeping an eye on one girl tucked away at the corner table for a while now as the stack of books on her desk has gotten progressively higher, and her hair has gotten more and more unruly from running her hands through it between every sentence she types. By Sebastian’s count, it’s sticking out in 4 different directions at once. It’s pretty impressive.

There’s also a group-project all-nighter going on a little further into the library, and one of the four participants fell asleep on the desk around half an hour ago. Since then, as the others carry on with the work, they’ve been periodically balancing more and more things on top of him. It’s at the point now where they may as well have emptied one of the shelves and stacked it on his head. Again - Sebastian is impressed.

All of that was good and fine, but not nearly as impressive as what he sees when his gaze wanders towards the bookshelves. 

The first thing that catches his eye is the boots. They travel the long and glorious road along a mile-high shin. They stopped halfway to his knees, laced intricately all the way and, yeah, Sebastian must be exhausted if he’s getting all worked up over shoelaces. When the boots stop, the jeans start, although Sebastian would believe it if he was told he was looking at body-paint. Who knew fabric could hug a body like that? It didn’t stop there, either. The red-button up and the delicious-looking arms in its sleeves was one thing, but then there was the waistcoat covering it. The man was stood facing the shelf in front of him, his long elegant fingers dancing over the paperback spines, and so Sebastian was facing his side. From that viewpoint, he could see that the waistcoat was laced too in a toned-down imitation of a corset.

Sebastian can’t not talk to him.

So he gets up - he smooths down his shirt and fixes his hair as best he can without a mirror to hand, and slips into the aisle. 

As he draws closer Sebastian notices more key details, like how shiny this man’s hair is, how blue his eyes are, how flawlessly smooth his skin looks, and… 

In combination with his tiredness, it all serves to knock any smooth openers straight out of his head. He’s too close to turn back, those spellbinding blue eyes are looking right at him. They deserve something slick - something charming, but… There’s nothing. Sebastian’s got nothing. 

“Why are you awake so late?”

Fuck. 

The handsome stranger cocks his head, just enough for Sebastian to notice the perfect cut of his jawline. 

“If it isn’t the campus police...” he replies, with a voice smoother than any line Sebastian could’ve concocted. He looks confused, but still amused - so he hasn’t completely blown it. Yet. “Hold on a second… No, you’re definitely not campus police. Relaxed-fit jeans don’t exactly command respect-- so I think the real question here is: why is it any of your concern?”

Sebastian looks down - honestly he doesn’t know anything about his jeans beyond ‘they’re blue’ so he’ll take this guy’s word for it. Anything to get more words out of him. 

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’re here in the--” shit, where are they. Sebastian quickly glances at the books beside him. “...Fashion section. My favourite.”

Sebastian gives it his best acting job, but he can tell it’s not doing the job. 

He’s fucking this up royally.

And yet, there’s no storming off.

On the contrary, the handsome stranger laughs. “It’s not your favourite.”

“No,” Sebastian admits, with a sheepish smile. At this point, he’s just too sleepy to save the lie. “It’s not. I know next to nothing about it, but you look like you’ve just stepped off of a runway, and so I thought I’d shoot my shot anyway.”

The man’s lashes flutter and his lips part ever so slightly like he’s surprised, like he doesn’t hear things like that all the time. That can’t possibly be the case - that would be a crime. He should know - he’s campus police.

The inexplicable shock fades. He considers Sebastian for a moment before he speaks again, perusing the books beside them with a small smile. “I’m awake because I recently landed a TA spot, and one of my first tasks was to create a lesson plan for one of my professor’s classes. So, of course, I did that, and submitted it several days ago.” As his tone gets more snippy, Sebastian realises this story doesn’t end well. “I got an email just two hours ago telling me that the lesson I’m planning, which takes place first thing tomorrow, is actually for a completely different class.”

Sebastian winces. “That’s… The worst? Yeah, the worst. Pretty sure there should be some kind of law against that.” 

“I’m glad somebody empathises with my plight,” he sighs, starting to scan the shelf a little more frantically. “Clearly, fate doesn’t, or I would’ve found the book I’m searching for by now…”

“Which one?” Sebastian asks - looking for it will be something to do, and he wants to see this guy smiling a little more. He’s already eyeing the titles on the top shelf. 

“Really? Um-- alright. It should have a black-and-white spine, titled Fashion Journalism: History, Theory--”

“And practice…?” Sebastian finishes, reaching overhead to pluck the book out.

The man stops, facing him in incredulity and wonder as he asks, “what’s your name?”

“Sebastian Smythe.”

“Sebastian Smythe, where have you been all my life?” It’s a joke, clearly, from the way he chuckles. “I’m Kurt, by the way.”

“Kurt,” Sebastian repeats, dumbfounded, as he lowers the book between them. He’s halfway to handing it over when he stops short, retracting his hand. “I’m getting this.”

Kurt blinks, raising an eyebrow, and Sebastian wonders if he’s offended by the offer. Is he overdoing the chivalry thing? Maybe Kurt’s just realised Sebastian’s trying to flirt, and he’s not into it. Oh god. 

“...Sebastian,” he begins, and Sebastian can feel the blunt force trauma of rejection hurtling his way. “Are you suggesting you’re going to buy me this library book?”

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh god,” Sebastian says, looking down at the book and quickly passing it over to Kurt. “I’m not usually this stupid, I swear. I’m taking premed, they don’t let idiots do that--”

“Sebastian? Relax,” Kurt laughs again, a little louder, and honestly it makes all the embarrassment worth it. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think it’s late, and you’re tired-- and that you should probably be using your last scraps of energy tending to whatever last-minute project you’re here to work on.”

“Oh, no, I’m not here for that. I’m shut out,” Sebastian explains, only to be met with a perplexed look from Kurt. “It’s the old sock-on-the-doorknob situation.”

Kurt nods at that, his mouth forming a small o-shape. “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun either,” he says, looking down at the book in his hands. He pauses, tapping his fingers against the cover before he glances up at Sebastian again. “So-- what you’re saying is, you don’t have anywhere to be right now?”

Sebastian lets himself grow hopeful once more. “No, I don’t.”

“Well then… instead of buying me a library book - which I don’t plan on letting you live down any time soon - perhaps you could stretch for a coffee?” Kurt asks, tentative, as if there’s any chance Sebastian would let that chance slip by. 

“I would happily keep you up all night,” Sebastian answers with a smirk, before hastily clarifying: “with coffee.” He pauses, and then again, “not that I wouldn’t--”

Kurt snorts, quickly holding up a hand to stop him short. “It’s okay, I get it. There’s this 24-hour place nearby I like. I’m going to check this out, and I’ll meet you outside? You can entertain me with your ramblings while I work on my plan and try not to tear my own hair out.”

“It’d be a shame to tear that hair out,” Sebastian thought aloud, before nodding. “I’ll see you out there.”

Kurt smiles before he walks past Sebastian, headed for the front desk. There’s a waft of something intoxicatingly floral - the scent of Kurt’s shampoo, Sebastian thinks - and his heart all but stops.

Sebastian pulls out his phone, and opens his chat with his roommate. He quickly types ‘THANK YOU!!!,’ fires off the message, and then follows after Kurt.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's the last fic-prompt for this Kurtbastian week! It's been a blast, and I just want to say thank you to everybody who's read, kudos-ed, and commented along the way. It means a lot, and this has been such a fun week as a writer!


End file.
